Beer Run
by Sir5er
Summary: Germany and Prussia fight over the last beer in the fridge... Rated T for violence


Germany was sitting on the couch watching TV. It was a normal, lazy, weekday afternoon at his house. He wore a black tank and dog tag, camouflage cargo pants, and combat boots. Everything was quiet, and everybody was doing their own thing. At least, that's what Germany thought his ex-nation Dummkopf of a bruder was doing. But soon, Prussia would come in and probably comment on what Germany was watching. He would probably just go in the kitchen and get a beer then go back to his room, so Germany wasn't worried about it. But today was different because there was only one more can of beer left in the fridge…someone would have to make a beer run or get the last one…both were unaware of it.

Germany sighed as he flipped through the channels. Nothing…skip…flip...whatever that was…he stopped for a moment because a beautiful, sexy runway model was in the middle of a photo-shoot and fashion show. As far as he could tell, she was Japanese…or Chinese…she was Asian.

Germany was mesmerized and didn't realize he was staring and drooling until, right on cue, Prussia came in, leaned against the back of the couch, and scoffed, "Vhat's zhat, Luddy?" he asked.

Germany quickly changed the channel. "Nozing…" he cleared his throat and continued flipping through channels.

Prussia rolled his eyes and opened the fridge, tapping the door while he decided what to eat. He wore a dark blue tank, lounge pants, and was barefoot. He looked like he had just gotten up. Knowing him, he probably still had a hangover. He sniffed and continued looking.

Italy came in wearing a "KEEP CALM AND EAT PASTA" t-shirt, lounge pants, and was also barefoot and started to whine because his show was on and Germany was hogging the TV time.

"Finek," Germany changed it to the station he knew Italy wanted and gave him the remote and walked into the kitchen as well.

The show was annoying simply because it had an annoying theme song and it was brain-less, _"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBILL SQUAREHEAD!" _it was even more unbearable because underage kids sang along.

"Zhose shows vill mess vif his noggin'," Germany muttered as he joined Prussia in the kitchen.

"Vant leftover pizza?" Prussia glanced over his shoulder, suggesting something to eat for his little bro-ha.

"Nein," Germany shook his head. "Italy probably vants it. Give it to him…"

Prussia pulled it out and looked at it, then at Italy staring and beginning to drool while his brain was turned to mush. He shrugged and set it on the stove. "Leftover smashed potatoes?" he grinned, without looking back at his brother, giving him a menu for lunch: what was in the fridge.

"Nein," Germany shook his head again. "Zhat's gross."

"Ja," Prussia, without even looking, threw it over his shoulder into the trash can.

Germany shook his head in pity. It was a shame to waste potatoes, but who wants nasty liquid or grease or whatever it is that builds up in the potatoes left in the fridge overnight.

Italy could be heard occasionally, giggling at whatever he was watching.

"Vell," Prussia, this time, looked back to face Germany. "Vhat do you vant, zhen?"

"Close ze door vhile you make your decision," Germany began to close the refrigerator door, but Prussia stopped it with his foot. "Vhat now? You're vasting energy…"

"Hold on," Prussia reached in and grabbed a beer can…the last one in the fridge.

"Hey," Germany stuck his head in. "Ist zhat ze last beer?" he closed the door and turned to face Prussia.

Prussia shrugged. "How should I know?" he asked. He plucked the top with his middle finger to settle the air inside and attempted to open the pop top, but Germany grabbed it out of his hand. "Hey!" Prussia reached for it, but Germany held his forehead.

"One moment," Germany put it on the counter. "IF zhis ist ze last, zhen one of us has to make a beer run…"

"Not it!" Prussia attempted to grab the can on the counter, but Germany grabbed it again. Prussia grew restless and leaned back. He exhaled out his nose loudly in annoyance.

"Vho says you get it?" questioned Germany, eyebrow raised.

"Because I saw it first! Und I'm older!" Prussia stated, even though that was a lame reason.

"Why don't-a you guys split it?" Italy suddenly suggested, arms resting on the back of the couch, facing them, kneeling forward, backwards on the couch.

"Because, you just don't understand!" Prussia shot back, attempting to steal the beer out of Germany's hands once again.

"Turn around und sit forward, Italy," Germany ordered.

Italy exhaled deeply, puffing his cheeks, but he smiled and went back to his show. He had gotten bored for a moment because commercials were on, and he couldn't understand them. Also, he heard them arguing in the kitchen.

Prussia glared at Germany. Germany glared at Prussia. Electricity seemed to spark and fly between their stares. Someone was getting the beer and they were determined for it to be them…

Prussia, playing with him first, just parried Germany's fist, gently knocking it down, but Germany was serious.

Prussia threw a punch that Germany easily dodged. Prussia stumbled forward and turned to face Germany on the opposite side of the kitchen now. Germany held his fists up and Prussia tried to fake him out by going one way, then quickly the other, but Germany followed him closely.

The next attempt Prussia rushed and it cost him. Germany glazed his cheek, but enough force to sting. Prussia raised his hand to feel it and growled. They continued to stare down.

Prussia tried to dodge, but Germany pushed Prussia to the floor under him, landing on all fours above him. Prussia kneed Germany in the gut, and grinned as he heard a satisfying "Oof!"

Prussia kicked Germany off and threw Germany into the wall, leaving a Germany-shaped hole in the wall. He caught up with his breath and sat up as he waited for Germany as he pulled himself out. "Ist zhat it?" Prussia provoked and laughed a little. "Suck it, Loser-"

But before Prussia could finish, Germany came faster than he thought and at blinding speed. He pulled Prussia's arm behind his back and sat on his back, pulling his bruder's arm nearly out of its socket. Prussia growled and tried to breathe because his air had been knocked out and his arm was getting ripped off. He cried out in pain, and Germany let off a little.

"OW! OW! UNCLE!" Prussia cried, tapping the floor with his free arm, as if surrendering in a wrestling match.

Germany grinned. He stood up and stepped back and Prussia rolled over, rubbing his sore arm, teeth baring.

"Finek, brat," Prussia managed to say between his teeth and breaths. "I let you vin…"

But before Germany could fetch his prize, Romano suddenly came in and casually swiped the beer can off the counter and joined his brother in the living room.

The German brothers exchanged glances…

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